Filling the only cup with water, she knelt by his head and whispered, 'Hunter.' She waited. 'Hunter, swallow a little water. Please!'
Hunter didn't respond. Perry removed her bulky hat and coat. Kneeling beside him once again, she cradled his head in her arms. 'Hunter, please swallow.' Water trickled down his chin, but again no response came.
Perry wiped the spilled water from his face with her sleeve. He has to drink, she thought, or he'll never live. She cradled his head close to her, holding him in a gentle vise between her breast and arm while she tried to force his mouth open. Again water trickled down his lips.
'Hunter, please swallow!' Again and again she begged. The water in the cup was half gone, and Perry's arm ached from supporting the soldier's head. Putting her finger into the cup, she touched Hunter's eyes lightly with the cool water. His eyelashes seemed longer and darker when wet. The tips of her fingers touched his cheek and traveled to his lips. His short growth of beard tickled her fingertips as she stroked his face. She marveled at the softness of his lips.
'Hunter, please drink,' she whispered. This time, to her surprise, his eyes opened. Piercing gray eyes looked directly at her. A touch of alarm and an ounce of uncertainty blended in the smoky depths of his riveting gaze.
He stared at her, searching her face as though looking into her very soul. The gray intensity seemed to hold her frozen for a moment. Suddenly an invisible rumbling of pain twisted his face, forcing his eyes closed. Torment echoed through her as she watched his agony.
A determined note rang in her voice as she said, 'Hunter, drink this.'
Nodding slightly, he swallowed the remaining water in the cup. As though the effort were too much for him, he fell back, collapsing into sleep once more, his head still resting in her arms. She cradled him gently to her and felt a sense of accomplishment. She'd won the first battle with death but the war was not over. He was still very weak, and blood continued to seep from his shoulder. She lay his head down lovingly, as a mother puts a sleeping newborn to rest. Covering him with the blanket, she slid beside him once more.
Yet as she curled around him, Perry found it impossible to relax. She couldn't erase his gray eyes from her mind. Their boldness and honesty had touched her, whirling her insides like a speeding merry-go-round.
As before, Hunter reached in his sleep to pull her near. His arm encircled her. His hand moved in the slow, familiar strokes of one who'd held her in his dreams all his life.
Perry was wide-awake now and totally aware that they were alone. She responded to his touch, molding willingly against his side as his fingers applied slight pressure along her spine. If the morning brought death, at least she would not have spent her last moments alone. He might not know it, but Hunter Kirkland might be her only taste of love.
Carefully she rested her hand on his unharmed shoulder, her fingertips touching the chain about his neck. Un- beckoned feelings were running through her veins, warming her blood and awakening a longing she'd never known. How could just a moment's look into his eyes affect her so? Why was the feel of his hand surveying her body addictive at first touch?
She brushed her fingertips over his skin. Touching him excited and frightened her. Her heart pounded from the feel of his flesh beneath her touch. Though her mind told her she shouldn't, her senses danced with a timeless awakening. Somehow she knew that this time was special, secret and apart from the rest of the world.
Perry had spent many nights dreaming of how it would feel to have a man by her side. She pressed her body against Hunter's full length as her hands continued to brush his skin lightly. She could feel his smooth muscles underneath the warm flesh. A tear drifted down her cheek as she thought of the bandaged shoulder, already stained anew with blood.
Hunter mumbled, and Perry leaned closer to understand his words. 'Hold on, Abram!' he whispered. 'Don't let go. Hold on! The balloon's going down. Hold on longer!'
Pain ripped through him, shaking Perry's heart with sympathy. From the depth of his cry she knew his pain was both physical and emotional. She reached up, cupping his face with her hands and whispered softly, 'Hush, Hunter. It's all right now.''
Yet his agonized words tore through her as he continued to call softly, 'Hold on, Abram!'
Perry attempted to steady Hunter's large frame in her small arms. She caressed his sweating face, cooing words of reassurance. When her lips brushed his forehead, she could feel the high fever within him. Tears spilled onto her cheeks as she pulled him closer. 'Please, please,' she begged. 'Please, Hunter, don't die.' Her words brushed his warm lips as she pleaded.
Then, like a storm that had blown itself at full gale, he relaxed. His body fell against her and he whispered, 'Stay near.' His uninjured arm pulled her close, as if holding on to life itself.
Perry brushed his hair from his closed eyes. Her lips trailed light kisses across his temple. Dear Lord, she thought, his nearness was intoxicating. Touching him brought her a reckless pleasure, a deep gulp of life when she'd only taken sips before.
Her breath whispered against his ear as his hand slid up to brush the material covering her breast. He pulled her collar open enough for his fingers to caress the soft flesh of her neck. The top button pulled free, making her shirt slip from her shoulder and allowing Hunger's fingers the freedom to slide her camisole strap off her shoulder.
As his hand brushed her warm flesh Perry's mind raced. He might only be holding on to life, but she was living it for the first time. Every part of her was alive. As his thumb traced the lace of her camisole to the dip between her breasts, Perry knew she wouldn't withdraw even if his hand explored further.
Hunter moved his face into her hair. 'Don't leave me, my angel, don't leave me.' His voice was rich and deep, stirring her no less than his gray eyes and warm touch had.
Tears ran down her cheeks as she whispered, 'I'm here.' He might only be dreaming, but the memory of this moment would stay within her forever.
Hunter relaxed in sleep, his arm around Perry.
'Live,' she whispered, moving her lips against his cheek. 'You must live.'
The memory of his touch haunted Perry's sleep as she dreamed of a tomorrow that might not come for Hunter.
Chapter 2
As dawn glistened through the cracks and danced on the far wall, Perry awoke with a start. Noma had not returned. Slowly, Perry's groggy mind realized that the constant thunder around her was cannon fire, not a storm. She crawled to the window and looked out. She could see nothing but blackness, but judging from the sound, the fight could be no more than a mile away. Noma was easily frightened. She was probably hiding somewhere, waiting for a chance to get back.
Now Perry felt not only fear but guilt as well. She'd spent the night dreaming of the way Hunter had touched her so tenderly and looked into her very soul with his gray eyes, while Noma had been somewhere outside, hiding. For one night Perry had been removed from the war, with no rules or fears to inhibit her. She'd cherished each moment. Now, in the morning light, she feared their time together might end before nightfall and she would be unable to spend another night in his arms.
The bandage across Hunter's shoulder was a bloody reminder of death's waiting vigil. Some spots along the white cloth were bright red, and others were already drying to a dark purple. The bandage had to be changed before the material stuck to his flesh and caused more damage.
Perry felt bonded to Hunter. Though they'd never talked, his life was as vital to her as her own. She would do whatever was necessary to see that he lived; then she would try to find Noma.
Afraid of seeing the searing pain in his eyes again, she pulled off the soiled dressing as slowly and gently as she could. Blood oozed from the torn tissue on his right shoulder, calling an abrupt halt to Perry's progress. She took a deep breath, fighting to control her nausea. She knew that the hot redness, spreading like scarlet weeds beneath the skin from the bloody injury, meant infection.
Hunter slept, unaware of her touch. She slowly bathed his shoulder, remembering how he'd touched hers in the darkness. Whether he lived or died would depend on her keeping the wound clean until a doctor could be found. The jagged rip in his skin and muscles stood in sharp contrast to the other smooth shoulder. Perry watched as his chest
